


The Arena

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Coulson is a great sidekick, Cousy In Space, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Mutual Masturbation, Rescue Missions, Romance, Sexy Roman Empire vibes, Space Gladiators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11773995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Coulson finally finds Daisy - in the gladiator arena.





	The Arena

Coulson realizes his mistake when he lands on the arena, touching the sand with his hand for a moment to keep balance. The monster is a lot larger than it looked from the spectator’s stalls, and how Daisy is able to look at it in the eye and now tremble - like Coulson is trembling now - is beyond him, except that he has learned not to be shocked by any of Daisy Johnson’s multiple feats by now.

He barely has time to look at her now - finally, after weeks, months, of searching, after _galaxies_ \- just to convince himself she is alive and it’s her, because he can’t tear his eyes off the gigantic, black-blue creature with the threatening fangs and claws in front of him. It is alien all right, and Coulson would be excited if it wasn’t for the clear and present danger.

“What are you doing down here?” Daisy asks, urgently and seemingly more worried by his presence here (the ring of sand? the planet?) than by the monster. Well, he was told she had been surviving on this coliseum for weeks by the time he finally caught up with her. Maybe this is normal for her. Maybe she faces terrifying galactic monsters every day, Coulson doesn’t know, he just wants to survive long enough to catch up.

“Uh, I was-” he stutters, never losing sight of the beast’s movements, in case it decided to charge against them. “I’m here to rescue you?”

Unconvinced, he smiles, aware of how absurd it sounds. He takes notice of Daisy’s clothes now that he is up close. Something out of a movie. Gladiator garb. _Gladiatress_? The leather vest matching the leather wristbands matching Daisy’s fierce glare.

She returns his smile, grabbing his arm tightly for a moment. She looks grateful. Did she really think Coulson wouldn’t follow her trail to the other side of the universe, if that’s what it took? Wasn’t she expecting him at some point? Does she really not know?

They look at each other until the monster interrupts with a frustrated guttural noise, as if it couldn’t find them, even though they are in front of it.

Daisy lets go and tilts her head. “Well, good job on the rescue.”

“Yes, I clearly didn’t think this through,” Coulson confesses. He had spent two days trying to get to Daisy - but the gladiators are off limits to civilians, their house obsessively watched.

He gives the thin metal bands around her wrists a glare.

“Your powers?”

“They didn’t want me to have an unfair advantage,” she shrugs.

It’s obvious this is more than inconvenient for her. Her powers are part of Daisy, not just psychologically, physically too. Having a gadget neutralize them must feel like… like missing a limb, he realizes. But unlike him Daisy doesn’t have a substitute right now.

Out of nowhere a knife and other sort of blades rain over them, one landing dangerously close to Daisy’s leg, the intention clearly to harm. Coulson follows the direction the weapon came from, only to discover half a dozen people in the process of throwing more weapons from the stands. What the he-

“Take cover,” Daisy tells him, pushing him to one side, until they are near the end of the Blood Pit - yeah, Coulson’s contact in the city called him that, Coulson had been a bit taken aback when he heard it.

“What the hell are those people doing?” he asks, pointing at the group among the public still trying to get a hit all the way from the seat right under the judges.

He had come to the arena yesterday as well - hoping to see Daisy, but it wasn’t her turn to fight - and he didn’t see this kind of behavior. Those guys are trying to hurt them.

“Those assholes? They are trying to draw blood,” she explains.

“Why?”

“Because of this particular battle… The beast is blind, it can only smell our blood.”

Then she gets an expression - he knows that expression. Once or twice that expression has exasperated him - because it meant he had overlooked something and she hadn’t, it meant she reached a conclusion he should have reached too, but that was years ago, when he still had the vague, absurd idea that he could teach her something. Now it just fills him with awe and relief, _Daisy is up to something_ , that expression means. Daisy has figured something out.

“What?” he asks. 

Daisy doesn’t immediately reply, her expression changed from “aha!” to determined in a second. She grabs Coulson by the arm, dragging him towards the opposite direction to where they are standing.

For a moment he has forgotten the monster after them and their tasty blood but now he remembers, very much so, the ground under his feet shaking with each step of the huge creature

“Come,” she urges him.

It’s only when Coulson is in front of the weapons stand that he realizes there was such a thing in the arena to begin with. There are all kinds of spears and daggers in view, as well as stuff Coulson has no idea how to classify, let alone name. It gives some old version of himself a thrill, all these alien, badass-looking guns.

“What about this one?” he grabs some pistol worthy of Flash Gordon.

Daisy takes it out of his hand and puts it back on the shelf.

“That wouldn’t hurt this thing, only annoy it,” she replies, looking frantic.

“I see,” Coulson replies, trying to use a tone of voice that might comfort her. They have made it out of worse spots, he wants to say. A creature that looks like a bald bear made of stone is nothing. Or okay, a creature that looks like a bald bear made of stone is very alarming, but they can handle it. “I’m guessing we _don’t_ want it annoyed.”

Daisy stops her search through the weapons and turns to look at him, her eyes wide and soft.

“I’ve missed you,” she blurts out, like she can’t stop herself.

The noise of the crowd dies down for a moment, and Coulson is acutely aware that they are in the Blood Pit, or he would want to hug her. He can’t remember the last time they hugged. But this is not the time, he guesses (he says that every time, he said that every time until the time came when he couldn’t remember the last time they hugged). Instead he nods at her, hoping Daisy knows what it means.

They stay still for a moment longer yet, looking at each other, the beginning of a smile on their lips, finding it hard to believe they managed to find each other again.

Then the noise cuts through the moment; the monster keeps circling the arena in search of its prey, and the audience is cheering it on, trying to bait it to where Daisy and Coulson are, by making more noise in the stands next to the weapons stash.

Daisy goes back to work, and eventually decides on a long chain that looks like it’s made of iron, but the color is a dark, alien red.

“I think I can choke it with this,” she says, then she makes a grimace at her own words. “Not kill it - it’s not the thing’s fault - just put it to sleep?”

Coulson nods. “But how?”

He looks up. The thing’s neck is high, and he doubts it will idle while Daisy climbs it. Seems like an impossible task.

“I have you,” she says. Coulson narrows his eyes at her. She grabs one of the elegant daggers that first caught his eye. “I need a distraction.”

The monster, the dagger, the “Eureka!” look on Daisy’s face just moments ago. Coulson gets it now.

“You need me to be bait,” he says.

Daisy bits her bottom lip, looking guilty. The creature is advancing towards them. There’s no time for courtesy. But, on the other hand, Coulson is looking at that thing and the perspective is daunting. She senses his hesitation (Coulson has no trouble calling it _fear_ ).

“Trust me?” Daisy says, locking eyes with him.

That puts things in perspective. Because if someone can face a terrifying monster that looks like a bald bear made of stone, then that’s definitely Daisy Johnson. 

He nods. “Of course.”

She grabs his hand and lifts it, palm upwards.

“Sorry,” she mutters and uses the dagger to cut a straight line. Blood starts pouring immediately, and Daisy steps back, careful not to let a drop fall on her and ruin the whole plan. 

Coulson nods again, gesturing for her to get away.

She walks backwards, looking at him with worry as he gets ready to face their foe. 

His first attempt at distracting the creature is not very helpful; Coulson gets a little too close and though it doesn’t manage to touch him the effort of throwing his own weight out of harm’s way is enough to land him on his knees.

The adrenaline from seeing those sharp claws close to his face should be giving him an extra boost of strength, but instead he’s paralyzed for a second, catching his breath while still on the sand.

Daisy has interrupted her attempts to go behind the monster and has run to Coulson’s side, making sure the enemy didn’t make contact. She grabs him by the shoulder.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah, it didn’t get me,” Coulson says, letting her help him up. “I just lost my footing.”

Daisy gives him a look, from head to toe, like she wants to call the whole thing off. 

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hurrying her away, not wanting her to catch the scent of blood too. “Let me try again. We can do this.”

“Yes, we can do this.”

It’s easier said than done, though, and for a while all Coulson can do is try to dodge the monster’s attacks, running from it, as Daisy trails behind its back, looking for an opening. The spectators cheer her on, admiring her clever plan. When Coulson got onto the planet, following the trail of the Kree trafficker who had left Daisy here, the first thing he heard was rumors about a fearsome warrior who always won her fights, even though she had only been in the business for a couple of months. Now he looks at her, for a moment, with the eyes of someone who doesn’t know who she is (who doesn’t know she is much more impressive than her skills as a warrior in the Pit), the eyes of an spectator who has paid to see her like this - the undefeatable look in her eyes, the chain in her hand, the dagger in her belt. That’s all these people who are yelling her awful arena moniker see. 

_They have no idea_ , Coulson thinks, and for the first time since a group of Kree guards took Daisy from their space prison to god knows where, he feels flooded with a smug sense of certainty, that everything will be okay, now that he’s with her.

“You should try harder! Over here!” he yells at the huge monster, trying to get its attention once more, taunting it. On a first sight it wouldn’t look like the creature knows human language, but who knows, Coulson wonders, this is galaxies away from Earth. Just in case words are not enough, he shakes his right hand in the air, filling it with the smell of his own blood dripping.

He’s trying to be good bait.

And for a moment it seems like he’s managed it, and Daisy sees an opening, but the creature is less reckless than they thought, and turns around when it senses her try to take hold of its back and push herself up.

The creature raises one of its gigantic paws, ready to let it descend on a Daisy that keeps stubbornly trying to get a hold on its shoulder, and Coulson has to think of something, he has to be quick, or they’re both done for. He grabs a handful of sand with his bleeding hand, throwing the mixture at the monster’s face, confusing or baiting it with the smell and feel of it long enough that it forgets about the fighter climbing up to the back of its neck.

The monster lashes out again, this time the contact it more direct, catching Coulson’s left shoulder with the back of its claws, the force alone throwing Coulson’s body halfway across the arena.

The Blood Pit, he tells himself.

Blood.

Blood pouring down from the back of his head. The monster didn’t do it, the fall did.

The fall.

He narrows his eyes. trying to focus of what’s happening on the other side of the pit.

He is so fuzzy from the direct hit that he almost doesn’t get to see Daisy sliding the chain around the creature’s neck and manages to suffocate it enough to submit it. It would have been a great, sight, he guesses, if he wasn’t so busy losing consciousness himself. He feels himself falling to the bloodied sand - the last thing he sees is Daisy running towards him but… why does it feel like she’s advancing in slow motion?

 

+++

 

He makes a joke, of course, because he catches her staring at his wounds. The nurses who normally take care of the fighters have done a good job, and placed him in a luxurious wide couch covered in soft cloth and animal fur, but still, Daisy should have stopped him from getting so hurt in the first place. She should have been stronger, quicker, thought of a better plan.

Coulson looks around.

“The gladiator theme I get,” he says. “But this whole Roman Empire set up? A bit too much.”

Daisy is sitting in a stool right next to him - she tries to find a light tone of voice.

“Actually from what I’ve been told… it’s the other way around,” she explains. “The people of this planet travelled to Earth long ago, and the Romans picked up…”

She gestures around them. The underground, warm and cozy baths. The paintings on the walls and columns. The scent of medicinal oils they used on Coulson’s body - heck, even the toga-like piece of clothing they have wrapped him in for comfort. It’s all straight from one of those movies. The kind of movies the nuns made her watch every Easter.

“The whole aesthetic?” Coulson finishes.

She nods.

He takes a better look at his surroundings. He seems still a bit confused - the hit to his head. He looks at Daisy, her clothes, very much like his, the “rest dress” as they call it here, which is quite modest, but thanks to the soft fabric - made specially to not aggravate fighters’ injuries - she feels a bit underdressed here. She still has her forearm pieces on (she was in a hurry to check up on Coulson) but blissfully, since this was her last battle, the bracelets that kept her from using her powers are gone. The nurses have left a bottle of the wine-like drink they are fond of here, but so far Coulson hasn’t touched it, maybe wondering if he was getting poisoned like in those very same movies.

“Sorry about…” she gestures to the back of her own head, frowning in apology.

Coulson mimics her and touches his wound, like he has forgotten it’s there.

“That? It’s fine.”

“No,” she tells him. “I should have been quicker. I should have been better. I got you hurt.”

Coulson shakes his head carefully. “No. You got us a win.”

Daisy nods, grateful for the absolution. Not that she didn’t expect exactly that from Coulson. Yet hearing the words is always better, and more shocking, than just knowing how he feels. 

“Daisy… how is it that I’m here?” he asks her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve spent the last two days trying to get inside this building, to see you,” Coulson says. “I was told visitors were absolutely forbidden.”

“Well, they normally are. Except when a warrior wins her fight…”

“What?” he looks confused, and Coulson is normally a lot quicker than this, especially when it comes to… well, this stuff.

Daisy can feel herself blush, stupidly, remembering when the Chief of the House -a former warrior who shows the women the ropes and takes care of them- explained the rules to them. 

“Visitors are allowed in here after a victory as - umm - as _reward_.”

Now Coulson gets it. 

“Oh.”

He looks down at his clothes, like he is second-guessing why the nurses used all that nice-smelling massage oil on him, why he was given the time to take a long bath and get cleaned.

Daisy lets out a chuckle. “Don’t worry,” she teases. “I can skip my reward this time.”

She has been skipping her reward all the other times she won, but in the meantime had used the special-visitor loophole to secure a way out of this planet.

“You’ve spent two days trying to see me?” Daisy repeats, oddly touched. Not just because of the two days, but the long journey here, the fact that Coulson managed to track her down in the first place. She was supposed to be in a Kree prison, or executed by the same hand, but the guys transferring her had the idea of making some money in the black market for warriors instead. Not only had Coulson managed to get himself out of prison, but he was able to follow that tenuous trail on his own.

There are still many gaps in the story, he argues, and Daisy spends the next minutes explaining how she had ended up on a gladiator arena on an outlaw planet, living with women of many species, all of whom, like Daisy, were trying to find a way out.

“The announcer, before your fight…” Coulson comments. “They said it was your last.”

“I made some good investments,” she says.”You’re allowed to bet on yourself and earn your way out of the fighter contract. To the Kree I was a criminal, here I’m just another way to make money, they don’t care if an aberration like me walks free.”

“You’re not an aberration,” Coulson tells her, the words falling from his lips like it was an automatic reaction.

Daisy gives him a smile. “Thank you. But you know? After the way those Kree were talking about me, and all these fights as _The Aberration_ , I’m beginning to own it.”

“So does this mean you’re free to leave this place? I have a ship waiting for us at the docks,” he says.

Daisy’s expression darkens.

“Coulson… I could walk away with you right this moment but I’m not the only one here. These past months I’ve seen these women fight on that arena, and die, and they’re… just like me. They’re the wrong species, or they got into a debt they couldn’t pay. What they are doing in this planet, it’s wrong. It can’t go on.”

She feels selfish and cruel, after Coulson has crossed half the unknown universe to rescue her. She feels helpless, because they don’t know what’s happening to their team back on Earth (even though she trusts that May and Elena are keeping everybody safe), they could still be imprisoned, or worse, they could be needing Daisy’s help, and yet Daisy can’t simply get on a spaceship and go back to them. She just can’t.

But if only Coulson knew these women, what they have done for Daisy, how they had fought by her side and took care of her and let themselves be taken care of by Daisy, then he would understand. He would love them as much as Daisy - all these wonderful aliens, how they didn’t care Daisy was a species considered more of a monster than the creature they defeated today in the arena. They took her in, despite the reputation Inhumans have across the universe.

“There’s already a plan in motion,” she tells Coulson. “Me getting out of this house, that was the first part. The others have been giving me their winnings, so I can go enlist the help we need.”

“Seems like you have it all already set up,” Coulson says, and she can’t tell, by her tone, whether he is accusing her or just processing the situation.

“I know asking you to wait for me, after all you must have been through to get here is unfair but…”

She is not sure she wants to know what Coulson has gone through to get to her. It would just make her remember she is not exactly worth the trouble, remember all those times Coulson has put himself at risk for her and he shouldn’t have.

“It’s okay,” he tells her but Daisy is not listening.

For a moment she reaches out her hands, she wants to touch him, like that would make him understand her position better. She wants to touch him to tell him how much it means that he is here, how there have been many moments when she was sure she would never see him again. And it’s not like her heart is not telling her to just grab Coulson and get the hell out of Dodge right this moment, rather than get ready to face another fight, another in the endless list of fights. But her heart is also telling her she couldn’t live with herself if she left tonight.

She grabs the neck of his clothes, twisting her fingers in the fabric, with a sigh of frustration.

“I want to get back to Earth, back to the team, I really do, but…”

“I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Daisy…” Coulson lifts his hand to her cheek. Daisy leans into the gesture without thinking, like it was balsam to her bruises. She can’t remember the last time she felt such a friendly touch. “Don’t apologize. Not for this. I’ve seen enough of how things work in this planet in the last couple of days. Of course you are going to stay and help the others here. There’s no way you could walk away. It’s what makes you you.”

He gives her a small smile. Like he admires her for it.

No one has ever said this kind of stuff to Daisy before, but this is not the first time she has this same thought. It’s what makes Coulson… well, Coulson.

She rests her hand on his chest -his very naked, very soft and scented chest. The pink flesh of his scar glistens with oil, and for a moment Daisy can’t tear her eyes from it, feeling grateful that the same fate that cut a hole in this chest put Coulson in her life, or her in his, it doesn’t matter.

“So…” Coulson says. “How can I help with this plan of yours?”

Daisy blinks at him, once, twice. Then she kisses him.

After all these years of knowing each other she is still shocked at these things he does and says, at how he makes her feel. But this time her shock transforms into something new (or not new, she is not sure, maybe it’s an old, old thing), something that makes her press her mouth, hard, against his.

“Daisy,” Coulson breathes out, surprised.

For a moment she thinks _Shit, I screwed things up again_ , but that fear lasts as long as it takes Coulson to sit up straighter and grab Daisy by the back of her neck and pull her body against him, kissing her with more conviction than she would have imagined. It’s a different kind of shock - perhaps even greater than her own desire, to realize that Coulson wants her like this.

Without thinking Daisy climbs on the couch with him, straddling his groin and kissing all the way down his neck to his chest. Coulson touches his fingers to her chin and makes her look up.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, searching Daisy’s eyes. It’s tactful and very sweet, and weirdly romantic.

She nods seriously, then she breaks into a smirk.

“Well, they did give us some wine after all…”

He replies with a tentative smile, and Daisy grabs the bottle of dark blue drink and pours into the two glasses.

“I’ve been meaning to try that,” Coulson says.

They both raises their glasses and drink. Daisy is glad for the moment of interruption, her head was dizzy, with the kissing and all these new feelings and desires she never thought she’d be having.

Coulson makes a wet, appreciative noise with his lips.

“It’s good,” he says, looking at the alien drink. “See? It’s a good thing I’m sticking around this planet for a little longer.”

Daisy hurries and takes the glass from his hand, leaving it and her own on the table once more. It’s a messy gesture, and the metal of the glasses rattles against the metal of the tray. But she is undisturbed; she grabs Coulson’s face in her hands and brings it to her lips, she thinks it’s their best kiss yet, maybe because she’s not thinking much about it, she is not even pretending _not_ to be thinking, the fake impulsiveness that has dictated her romantic life until now. It’s good almost-wine, even if Daisy has never been a wine person, but hey, _alien_ , and she sucks on Coulson’s bottom lip, tasting every drop, until the way his hands loop tightly around her waist makes Daisy part her mouth into a moan. 

“I’ve missed you,” she says, her hips grinding down on Coulson, everything speeding up.

He smiles. “I can see that.”

Daisy shakes her head.

“It’s not a joke.”

“No, sorry,” Coulson says, bringing his hands to her shoulders, holding her gently. “I’m just nervous.”

“ _You_? Nervous?”

She laughs. It’s a good sound, if she says so, reverberating through the columns in this damp and warm chamber. She doesn’t think she’s laughed like this as often as she would have liked.

Still laughing she starts pulling Coulson’s clothes apart, wrapping her hand around his soft cock. He throws his head back against the couch, opening his mouth wide, and closing his eyes as Daisy gets him hard. It’s quite a sight. She remembers the sleazy side of the History Channel, and why she liked it so much.

“Now this is proper Roman Empire aesthetic,” she jokes, _she_ is nervous. Stupid dorky joke.

Coulson laughs. It’s a choked, groan-like chuckle, that sounds infinitely sexy to Daisy. Though, to be fair everything, she suspects anything Coulson did right now would seem sexy to her.

He reaches for her, trying to return her gesture, but then he remembers and holds up his injured, bandaged hand with an apologetic smile. Daisy takes his other hand, Coulson’s prosthetic hand, and brings it between her legs. It’s a bittersweet, because she can’t stop herself from remembering she is the reason he needs a prosthetic limb in the first place, but she likes the feeling that his body, his alone, that she is wrapped around. His artificial fingers are more careful and loving than any other’s she’s know, anyway, and she is only to happy to state her enthusiasm - cause she knows Coulson, she knows what he’s thinking right now - riding his hand fast and hard, showing him how wet he’s making her.

Daisy likes the way his other hand goes to the small of her back, under her robe, the way the fabric of his bandage feels against her skin. She doesn’t like that he got hurt but -

She likes how Coulson crossed galaxies just to come get her.

The way Coulson crossed galaxies so that now they could here, doing this.

She brings her body down on his, rubbing her clit against the length of his cock.

She likes the way Coulson moans at that, appreciatively, and loud, like he doesn’t care who might hear. Daisy knows they won’t be interrupted. The nurses and the other fighters, they were already assuming she was going to have sex with Coulson anyway. She admits, in hindsight, that it gave her a thrill when he asked why he was allowed inside the building, a thrill that other people would think that he would… that she could have that _reward_.

She lowers herself on him completely, and starts moving her hips, fast, grabbing the back of the couch. She closes her eyes.

“Daisy, Daisy… uh, slower?”

She opens her eyes. Coulson has a pleading expression on his face, and his left hand is holding her tight around her hip, trying to guide her movement a bit.

“Oh, sorry. Are you okay?” she asks.

He smiles sweetly. “Yeah, it’s just, you’re too fast for me.”

“Sorry, that’s just - I’m normally used to this… I mean guys normally-”

“I just don’t want it to be over so soon,” he tells her, all sincerity, an open expression she has never seen in him before. “Please?”

She’s stuck speechless, never thinking someone might one to hold on to her, to make it last, to stay with her as long as they could, instead of chase their own pleasure.

She gets what he means, though, the way he moves together with her, she doesn’t want it to end. Coulson has been the person closest to her for years, but this kind of _closeness_ , she never thought she’d know it with him of all people.

It doesn’t last, and Daisy gets his point even more when it’s over, when they have both come, and the connection, while still there, changes. It’s a different kind of closeness, holding each other through the aftermath, the way Coulson keeps pressing soft kisses to her forehead and cheeks, the way she can’t stop caressing his chest and arms.

Next time, she thinks. Next time they’ll make it last longer. 

They clean themselves with some of the pieces of cloth the nurses left behind, and then Daisy lies on the couch next to him, careful not to take too much space, because he still needs to rest and heal, and she fears she might have messed up the recovery a bit (she’s not sorry, though).

Coulson hugs her closer, keeping her between his arms as he sighs and half-closes his eyes, blissfully sleepy it seems - damn, she’s missed the way he hugs her, even though she never imagined next time they would be both naked and in another planet.

“What?”

He gives her a somewhat-smug smile.

“Bedding a gladiatress wasn’t exactly in my bucket list…”

“A _space_ gladiatress,” she corrects him with pride, feeling woozy and content, her usual defenses gone.

“Even better,” Coulson says.

“Though technically, it’s _gladiatrix_.”

He reaches to kiss her cheek.

Well, Daisy thinks, the idea was a lot less improbable than her finding someone who could love her like Coulson. Less improbable than Coulson picking her, among everyone in the universe.

She grabs his hand in hers and keeps it pressed to her chest.

“We can rest a bit,” she says, reality already intruding, prodding on her blissful state. “But afterwards…”

“Your plan?” She nods. “Tell me more about that,” Coulson asks.

“So, okay, first, there are these old tunnels running under the city…”


End file.
